


Choke

by maddestofhatters



Series: Songs with Benefits [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Clint Barton-centric, F/M, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt Natasha Romanov, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 14:28:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30124224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maddestofhatters/pseuds/maddestofhatters
Summary: Clint and Natasha, after avoiding each other for weeks, make up after a fight.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov
Series: Songs with Benefits [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2216943
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	Choke

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on the song Choke by Royal and the Serpent.  
> Can be read as a stand-alone or part of the series.  
> TW! Pretty graphic sexual scene at the end.

_You are a shadow_ _  
Following me where I go  
I'd be better without you  
What are you doing to me?_

Clint’s nervously pacing up and down the jet. They were supposed to take off twenty minutes ago, but Natasha hadn’t shown up yet. Clint wasn’t even sure if she still wanted to be his partner. He wouldn’t blame her if she ditched him. It’s four days after that dreadful night and he’s not seen Natasha since. To be fair, he hadn’t really gone looking for her either. He felt way too guilty. The look on her face when he basically called her a robot was too much for him to bear. How could he have been so stupid? All he wanted was for her to understand how he felt about her. Instead he just hurt her in the worst way imaginable, by calling her heartless. Something she most definitely wasn’t. _Great job, you idiot._

He checks his watch again. Twenty-four minutes past their take-off time. He’d been dreading this mission. It was an easy one. Get in, get out. Three days, tops. The problem was that because it was so simple, it would only take two people. Him and Natasha. And that was something he wasn’t ready for at all. He even went as far as to tell Fury. Didn’t help though. Fury just raised his eyebrows and basically told him to go fuck himself. Which was fair, he was a grown man for God’s sake. Just didn’t really feel like it right now. He’s prepared a whole speech, which he knows he’ll forget as soon as Natasha walks into the jet. _If she even comes._ It’s not like her at all to be late, especially for missions.

Clint tries sitting down, but instantly stands up again. Nat being late isn’t helping his nerves. There’s a shuffle behind him. _Finally._ He turns around immediately, preparing himself. But instead of a gorgeous redhead facing him, it’s agent Hill. A look of disappointment crosses his face. Hill chuckles.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“Where’s Natasha?” He blurts out.

“About that, are you gonna have a problem with handling this mission alone?”

“Why, where is she?” He pauses, a terrifying thought occurring to him. “Is she hurt?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. She’s just reassigned. Fury gave her the one in Bucharest. Anyway, I’m just here to send you off. You’re fine on your own, right?”

Clint blinks a few times, staring uncomprehendingly at his colleague. Then he gives a small nod.

“Great. Call if you need anything.”

Hill turns around and exits the jet. Clint’s frozen. _Bucharest._ That’s one of the longer missions. Six months if he’s not mistaken. Was she really this desperate to avoid him? He curses under his breath. He really, _really_ fucked up this time.

_I'm suffocating_ _  
Don't know how to explain it  
But I feel like I'm fading  
What are you doing to me?_

The weeks following Hill’s announcement are filled with pain and regret. Clint doesn’t eat, doesn’t sleep, doesn’t do much of anything. He just stays sulking in his room for days on end. Fury leaves him alone most of the time, probably connecting the dots between Natasha’s ‘disappearance’ and Clint’s sudden mood change. Clint doesn’t care. Doesn’t care about anything anymore. He misses Natasha. Her red hair, her smile, _her touch._ If he’d just kept his goddamn mouth shut, she’d still be here. He can’t take this anymore.

It’s the sixth week after Nat’s departure. He hasn’t heard anything from her. Didn’t really expect to, but he still checks his phone every day, hoping to get a message from her. It doesn’t come. He does get a text from Hill. And as soon as he reads it, his heart drops.

‘Romanoff’s back. Bad shape. Come to medical.’

Fuck. What happened? Bucharest wasn’t a difficult mission. A long one, sure, but nothing Natasha couldn’t handle. Something was definitely wrong, otherwise she wouldn’t have been extracted so soon. She was only six weeks in. Clint shoves his phone in his pocket and leaves his apartment for the first time in days. His mind clouded with worry.

_You've been putting me through hell_ _  
I should really run for help  
I'd leave you for someone else  
Too bad you can’t leave yourself_

“Agent Romanoff, where is she?” Clint asks the nurse at the front desk.

“Name?” The woman doesn’t even look up from her papers.

“Barton.” He taps his fingers on the desk. Extremely annoyed by the woman’s thoroughness. She looks through a few papers. After a few moments she replies.

“You don’t have clearance.”

“What, why not? Just tell me which room she’s in.”

The nurse looks up, annoyance evident on her face.

“You don’t have clearance.” She repeats.

Clint groans in frustration. He’s just about to tell her where she can stick her clearance when Hill rounds the corner.

“Damn, Barton, I can hear you yelling from the other side of the building.” She turns to the woman behind the desk. “It’s fine, he’s with me.”

The nurse gives her a nod and returns to whatever she was doing. Hill turns to him.

“She’s in surgery right now. Come with me.” She turns and walks away. Clint follows her.

“What the hell happened out there? She’s not supposed to return for another _four_ months.”

“Suicide bomber. Took Romanoff down with him. Third degree burns.”

Clint’s stomach drops. _Shit._ He knows the doctors will fix her, make it seem like nothing happened, but still. It must hurt like hell. He feels for his partner. They round a corner and stop in front of an empty room.

“You can wait here, she’ll be out in two hours.”

Clint thanks her and sinks down in one of the chairs. Hill leaves him to his thoughts.

His eyes flutter open. He must’ve dosed off. Nat’s not out of surgery yet. Suddenly he feels nervous. He hasn’t spoken to her in six weeks. Hasn’t even seen her. What was he supposed to say? _I’m sorry?_ Sure, yeah, that would’ve been a great start… if she hadn’t just been blown to pieces, that is. What if she doesn’t want to see him? What if she _does_? What if-

He has no time to finish his rambling thoughts. The doctor comes in, followed by a bed on wheels. In it lies Natasha. They did an impressive job. There are no burn marks in sight, just smooth skin. Clint holds his breath. All his feelings, the ones he had been suppressing for weeks, come crashing back. Luckily, she’s still unconscious. Clint doesn’t think he could handle having to speak to her right now. The doctor turns to him.

“The sedative will be wearing off soon. Everything will be fine, but we’d like to keep her here for a few more nights, just for observation.”

Clint nods, not taking his eyes off of Nat for a second. The doctor leaves the room, shutting the door behind her. Clint walks over to the bed, taking Nat’s hand in his. Her face looks peaceful. Nothing like the pained expression that crossed it last time he saw her.

He’s lost in thought, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb, when she groans softly. He shoots up, immediately letting go of her hand.

“Nat?” He asks gently.

She murmurs something inaudible. He waits for her to wake up fully. After a few minutes, her eyes flutter open.

“Hey Nat, how you doing?” He asks again, a little more nervous this time.

Her eyes turn to him. Still a bit glazed over from the sedative.

“Wha- Clint?” She mutters.

“Yeah, it’s me. You gave me quite a scare back there.” He smiles.

She stares at him. Suddenly it dawns on her who exactly is standing before her. Clint can see it in her face. Her eyes narrow and she purses her lips. Her expression is one of pure resentment.

“ _Clint._ ”

She’s saying his name with such menace that he has to physically take a step back. She tries to sit up and shoots him a hateful glare.

“Get out.” It’s barely above a whisper.

“What?”

“Get _out_.” Louder this time. “I don’t want you here. Leave.”

She tries to look intimidating, but it’s hard with her messy hair and hospital gown. Still, she does a decent job. Clint’s shocked. He expected her to be angry, to yell at him, maybe even punch him, but not this.

“What? No, I’m not leaving you he-”

“Get out!” She’s practically screaming. If looks could kill, he’d be six feet under right now. “Clint, I swear to God, if you don’t leave _right now,_ I’ll-”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Clint backs away, holding up his hands. He knows when he’s not welcome, so he turns on his heels and stumbles out the room, leaving a seething Natasha behind. 

_Loosen your grip before I choke_ _  
Can't catch my breath, I'm gonna choke_

He doesn’t dare to visit Natasha again. Instead he asks Hill how she is. She doesn’t question him, just tells him what he wants to know.

_I wish that you'd just let me go_ _  
I don't want this, I promise, just leave me alone_

It’s another week before Natasha is cleared from the hospital. Her cover in Bucharest is blown, so SHIELD will have to send another agent. Clint’s silently thankful for that. Maybe now he will get a chance to talk to her. But first he has to muster up the courage, because it’s clear she does _not_ want to talk to him.

_Beg you for mercy_ _  
'Cause my vision is blurry  
I'm afraid you could hurt m_ _е_ _  
What are you doing to me?_

Two weeks go by and nothing happens. Clint just can’t bring himself to talk to Natasha, so he hides in his quarters. Every time he sees a flash of red hear, he immediately goes the other way. It’s petty, he knows. But he can’t take a second rejection. Not with her.

SHIELD is throwing some lame party again, but Clint’s not taking any chances. He’s staying safely inside, not wanting to run into _her_. He’s dosing off on the couch when there’s a knock on his door. He sighs and hoists himself up, walking over to flip off anyone who dares to disturb him. But when he opens the door, it’s not just anyone standing there. It’s Natasha fucking Romanoff. The woman he has tried so desperately to avoid. Clint gapes at her, not sure what to say. She’s clearly drunk. Her eyes are slightly unfocused and she’s grinning. She pushes past him into his room, swaying lightly.

“Hey partner.” She slurs.

When he turns around, she’s already half out of her dress.

“What, no, Nat, come on, you’re drunk.”

“So what, I can still make you come, Barton, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

She gives him a wink and continues to wriggle herself out of her impossible tight dress. She’s wearing a push-up bra and Clint can’t help but stare at her. His eyes linger a few more seconds before he snaps out of it. He walks over to her, removing her hand from the bra strap.

“No, we’re not doing this.”

He leads her to the couch and sets her down, handing her a shirt. She doesn’t put it on, just stares at him. Her eyebrows furrow slightly.

“Don’t you want me?” She asks. _Of course he does._ But not like this.

“Not when you’re drunk.”

She pouts. Sitting back on the couch. Her hands are shaking faintly. She opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again.

“I know you think I’m a heartless monster, but I can still be good to you, if you’ll just let me.” She grimaces. Clint tries to hide his surprise.

“I don’t like you just for your body, Nat.”

She looks at him for a long time, not really understanding what he just said. Then her lip starts trembling and tears begin to form in her eyes.

“Why else would you like me?”

Clint’s heart breaks at her words. How could she think so little of herself? She is _amazing_. Both on the inside and out. He awkwardly sits next to her and puts a hand on her knee. He wants to comfort her, but he’s not sure how. Just as he’s about to say something, a sob racks through her body. She lets her head fall into her hands and starts crying. Clint has no idea what to do now. He’s never seen Nat cry. He just rubs her knee a little, not wanting to impose, but also not wanting to let her go.

“I just… can’t we just go back to sleeping together?” She manages to get out between sobs.

“Why don’t we talk about this in the morning, okay?” Clint’s not even sure if she’ll remember this, but he hopes she does. He stands up and pulls Nat up with him. She sniffles.

“Come on, you can sleep in my bed.”

He pulls her along with him to the bedroom. She has stopped crying, but her eyes are bloodshot and her mascara is all smudged. She still looks adorable though.

Clint sets her down on the bed and lays the shirt he gave her next to her. She’ll probably want to cover up when she wakes up. As soon as her head hits the pillow, she’s asleep. Clint stays and watches her for a while. The rise and fall of her chest. The messy bundle of red hair. Her small hands clutching the blanket. He sighs. He really, _really_ hopes she doesn’t murder him in the morning. 

_Try to escape it_ _  
I don't know if I'll make it  
'Cause my body is breaking  
What are you doing to me?_

After two hours of actual sleep, Clint gets up. He’d been awake most of the night. Thinking about what Nat said yesterday, what he had said all those weeks ago. He couldn’t take his mind off of it. The uncomfortable couch didn’t help either. Nat hadn’t sneaked out, so she is still in his room. The door’s closed though and Clint is not about to wake her up. Instead he goes to the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee. Then he returns to the couch and turns on the TV, waiting for the inevitable conversation that’s coming.

About twenty minutes later Clint hears movement coming from his room. The door swings open and Natasha steps out. She’s wearing his shirt. Clint holds his breath, waiting for Nat to say something. She doesn’t. Just walks past him into the kitchen. Clint’s debating whether or not to follow her when he hears glass falling and a string of Russian curses. He immediately goes to look if she’s hurt. When he enters the kitchen, he sees Natasha crouched on the ground, trying to pick up the pieces of the cup she apparently dropped.

“Fuck.” She mutters when she cuts her finger on one of the shards. Clint crouches down next to her.

“Here let me help.” He accidentally touches her shoulder and she sighs annoyed.

“God, I’m not a child, Clint. I don’t need you hovering over me the entire time.” She snaps. Clint backs away instantly, looking like a kicked puppy.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…” _Touch you, upset you, love you._ He wanders off, making a vague arm gesture.

Natasha doesn’t respond, just continues to pick up the shards of glass. Clint waits for her to say something else. He doesn’t really want to have this conversation, so he’s not going to start it. Besides, the last time he talked to Nat sober, she threatened to kill him. So he’s not quite sure where they stand right now.

After what feels like an eternity, Nat stands up again, walks over to the trash can and throws away the remnants of the cup. Then she turns to him. Her face is completely impassive. There’s no way of telling what’s going on in her head right now. She stares at him for a long time. Clint stares back, preparing for the worst. After a while she finally opens her mouth.

“You look like shit.” The corner of her mouth twists up in a small smile.

Clint’s eyes widen in shock. He was ready for her to verbally, maybe even physically, attack him. Not this snarky comment.

“So do you.” He finally manages to get out. Her smile widens, she shrugs.

“Well, being blown up tends to do that to you.”

Clint can’t believe this. She’s actually being nice to him. _Why?_

“Aren’t you like mad at me or something?”

Her smile disappears. She averts her eyes and stares at her hands. She doesn’t say anything. For a second Clint’s worried he’s messed up again, but then she speaks.

“I was.”

He waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t.

“Oh, okay. Eh, what about now? You still feel like bashing my skull in?” He tries jokingly. She doesn’t laugh.

“I’m sorry.” She says after a long moment.

“For what?”

“Yesterday, I guess. And…” Her voice begins to tremble. Clint wants nothing more than to wrap her in a hug right now, but he knows that’s probably not the best idea. So he stays where he is. Waiting for her to go on. After a long moment she opens her mouth again.

“I understand why you said those things. It hurt like hell, but I understand. I _am_ bad at emotions, feelings. I just-” She cuts herself off again, wrapping her arms around herself. She looks so small. This time Clint does walk over to her. He stops in front of her and takes her trembling hands in his.

“No, Nat, _I’m_ sorry. I never should’ve said something like that. I don’t think that, okay? You’re my partner and my friend and yes, I do wish we could be more than that, but I get that you don’t feel the same way and that’s fine. Just please, _please_ don’t hate me, or yourself.”

It feels like a weight has been lifted from his shoulders. All Clint had wanted to do for the past weeks was to tell Nat he didn’t mean it and now he had. He just wishes she accepts his apology. She hasn’t let go of his hands yet, but she’s still not looking at him.

“I don’t hate you.” It’s almost a whisper. Then she looks up and locks her eyes with his. “And I kind of do feel the same way, I think.” Her cheeks flush and she looks down again at their entwined hands. Clint can’t believe his ears. Did she just confess to having feelings for him?

“You what… seriously?” He stammers.

Natasha sighs and takes a step back, letting go of his hands. She rubs her face.

“I- Yeah, I guess. Look, I don’t really know, okay? This is completely new to me. I’ve never… _felt_ like this. And I know I hurt you, I’m sorry. I just didn’t really know what to say, you know, so I lied. And then I ran…”

Clint tries to hide the smile that’s creeping onto his face, but he’s doing a poor job.

“You really like me back?” He sounds like an overexcited child.

“Yes, did you not listen to me?” She snaps. Then with a guilty look she adds, “sorry.”

Clint ignores her outburst and just smiles at her.

“This is awesome.”

He walks over to her and plants a kiss on her cheek. Her eyes widen slightly, but then she leans back in and kisses him on the lips. When she pulls back her cheeks are flushed.

“Can we just take it slow though? I’m not really sure how this works.”

Clint wraps her in a hug. Burying his face in her red hair.

“Of course.” He murmurs. “Whatever you want.”

They keep standing like that for a while, then Natasha pulls back. She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

“So, now what?”

Clint looks her up and down and grins.

“How about we start with something you do know?”

He grabs her wrist and pulls her towards the bedroom.

_Loosen your grip before I choke_ _  
Can't catch my breath, I'm gonna choke_

Natasha pushes him on the bed and climbs on top, straddling him with her hips. She leans down and kisses him hard, sliding her tongue inside. Clint’s hands fumble with her shirt, trying to pull it over her head. Nat notices and sits back up, removing the shirt in one quick motion, revealing her push-bra, which she quickly disposes of as well. Clint takes in the sight and she smirks.

“Like what you see?”

Instead of answering he just pulls her back in. Kissing her passionately. He flips them, so that Nat’s under him. He takes of his own shirt and lowers his mouth to her neck. Gently biting the delicate skin. He flicks his tongue over the forming bruise. The knot in his stomach tightens when he hears her soft gasps. Clint smiles. His hand finds her breast and he rolls the hardened nipple between his fingers. He lowers the other hand down to the edge of her panties. Tugging softly, silently asking for permission. She groans and Clint looks up. She looks back and nods. He grins. _God, he’s missed this._

He takes his own pants of first before helping Nat with hers. He smiles at the wetness already forming between her legs. He gives her one last peck on the lips before lowering himself and lightly biting the inside of her thigh. Her hands find his hair and she tries pulling him in, but Clint resists. _Not yet._ He traces his tongue along the insides of her thigh. Delighting in the soft moans he elicits.

She tugs his head again and this time he obeys. He drags his tongue through her slick heat before settling on her clit. Natasha gasps loudly, pulling him in even closer. He slips a finger inside and keeps flicking his tongue over her clit. When her gasps turn into pleas, he slips in a second finger. She opens her legs even wider and bucks her hips, trying to get him to go deeper. Clint can feel she’s close, so he pulls back. Natasha makes a whiny sound at the sudden lack of touch.

“Clint.” She hisses. “Get back here.”

But Clint just back away even further, grinning at the pleading look on her face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite hear you.”

Natasha just groans in frustration and tries pulling him back in. Her hands grabbing at his fingers.

“Please.” She whimpers.

This time Clint doesn’t resist. He pushes himself up and steadies himself, grabbing her hips. Then he pushes inside her. Nat lets out a low moan, planting her nails in his back. He thrusts into her. She bucks her hips again, drawing him in even deeper. Clint picks up the pace, pushing himself into her with firm thrusts. Her eyes are tightly shut and she bites her lip. Nails dragging over his back. Her moans grow louder and Clint knows she’s seconds away from climaxing. So is he. He slips his hand between them and flicks his fingers over her clit. Her whole body shudders and she arches her back. Gasping loudly. Clint comes soon after. They ride their orgasms out together.

He pulls out and drops down next to her.

“ _Fuck._ ” Nat lets out a shuddery breath. “I missed that.”

Clint chuckles.

“So did I.”

He kisses her shoulder and she snuggles into him.

“I can get used to this.” She murmurs.

Clint doesn’t reply, just holds her tighter. Not planning on ever letting go. 

_Loosen your grip before I choke_

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> Also I'm aware that this is not how you treat burn wounds, but it's the MCU so they probably have some magic doctors over there :)


End file.
